


Like a Stone

by Sunrose22



Category: Mortal Kombat (Video Games), Mortal Kombat - All Media Types
Genre: Edited Version, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Jealousy, Kombat Kids in the old storyline?, LLF Comment Project, Masturbation in Shower, Midway storline, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Pregnancy, Sex, Slight love triangle, The 3D era was great too, Trying to escape past mistakes, Unresolved Romantic Tension, liutana - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-20
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:28:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 13,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28191708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sunrose22/pseuds/Sunrose22
Summary: "Johnny Cage defeated Blaze, and the power of the gods rushed through him. He gained superior strength and dexterity, but more important, a new insight into his existence. With the help of Shaolin masters, he renounced his superficial former life and became enlightened."Johnny's choice has unexpected consequences for the one he decided to leave behind.***Edited! See chapters.
Relationships: Kitana/Liu Kang, Kung Lao/Original Female Character(s), Past Jackson "Jax" Briggs/Vera Briggs, Past Kurtis Strker/Kabal, Sonya Blade/Johnny Cage, Sonya Blade/Takahashi Kenshi
Comments: 2
Kudos: 6





	1. Sonya Blade

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to anyone who patiently allows me to edit this story! 
> 
> When I started Like a Stone, I used third person and past tense styles. Later, I decided to switch to first person and present tense. Unfortunately, I did a horrible job of converting one of the Johnny Chapters. The grammar mistakes were just awful! I took it down and, armed with Grammarly, re-worked it. Hopefully, you'll enjoy.

SONYA  
  
=====

I don't remember much from the battle at Armageddon. That's a consequence of dying early.

I do remember the look on Johnny Cage's face when he shoved me off the pyramid. He looked me in the eyes and proclaimed how sorry he was. It hurts when someone's words contradict their actions. He _said_ he didn't want to harm me, yet he pushed me to my death.

I hit the ground hard, but I didn't die. I felt pain, and I heard various bones cracking, but I still opened my eyes. The fall broke my legs. My right tibia jutted out of the skin, and I couldn't move from the waist down. It hurt like hell.

I reached for Kitana's ankle as she threw one of her signature fans at an opponent. She looked down at me for a second. I saw the realization and regret in her doe eyes before she moved on. My ally ignored me. No matter what the legends claim, the forces of good reverted to "every man for himself." Johnny and now Kitana betrayed me. What had we become?

It's irrelevant. It was only a matter of time before someone trampled me, or worse, discovered me. I had many enemies on the battlefield. I didn't know how I'd die, but I just hoped _he_ wouldn't be the one to do it. I could take anyone else. Anyone. Just not Kano.

I lost consciousness for a while, although I don't know how long. I awoke to _his_ boot tapping me. My stomach lurched at the sight of him. His lips curled in a hideous smile, and his red eye glinted. I knew how he wanted to kill me, and I was one hundred percent right. I looked into his eyes as the laser activated.

It hurt. Oh, God, it hurt. He fried me like a southern chicken leg. I screamed and sobbed as the heat engulfed me. The acrid smell of every hair on my body burning at once filled me with nausea. I felt the elastic in my pants warp. The burning fabric became lava, embedding itself in my blackening skin. It became clear that I was finally meeting my maker. He had officially won our rivalry. He had beaten me.

I begged. I wanted it to end so badly that I pleaded with him to stop. Jesus, I had never begged for anything in my life. I stayed tough while I faced a firing squad or torture in Shao Kahn's dungeon. "'Just say please, and we'll stop.'" they sneered. I always had a quick comeback for them. I even flipped them the bird a few times. Now, there I lie, begging the man I despised for mercy. I can honestly say I would have done almost anything for it.

He stopped once I had third and fourth-degree burns over most of my body. I felt the wind against the parts of me that still had nerve endings, and I screamed some more. I looked up at him and suddenly felt like begging again. This time I pleaded for a merciful death. He smirked, wagged a finger at me, and kicked my leg. I felt the bone shift more and groaned hoarsely. My throat burned from all the crying I had done. I couldn't scream anymore.

He watched me in bemusement for seconds, or was it hours? I couldn't tell you. After those painful moments, he showed mercy for the first time in his existence. He grabbed me, lifted me over his head, and pulled.

They say he ripped me in half. Once I stopped kicking, he dropped me in the dirt and moved on. What did I expect? He certainly wouldn't mourn me. I guess nobody really would. All of my friends and allies had scattered across the battlefield, having ripped their relationships asunder.

I wish I could say that I went to a blissful afterlife. I wanted heaven, where every soul received an opulent mansion and lived in paradise free from worry or pain for eternity. Instead, I drifted in confusion and fear. The pain never left. I don't remember the end of the battle. I don't recall Johnny defeating Blaze and Earth returning to normal. All I remember is waking up in that Edenian medic camp. My burns were gone, and my body was intact. All was right with the world.

At least it was supposed to be.


	2. Chapter 1: Johnny Cage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Johnny's life with the Shaolin...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> LLF Comment Builder  
> This author replies to comments.  
> “If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!“

JOHNNY

===

I brace myself and rise from my knees, flinching at a cramp in my right calf. I shake the tension out of my arm and survey the room. It has to be pristine for Princess Kitana, who will arrive in thirty-six hours. Five years after The Battle, the Edenians are our closest allies. The Shaolin are Earth's unofficial ambassadors.

The room could pass a white-glove inspection. "I used to need a housekeeper for this," I muse. I grab my water bucket, broom, and rags. A job well done.

After dumping the dirty water and putting the supplies away, I start my morning tasks. Six in the morning means meditation at my favorite spot: the sparring arena. While most prefer the lei tai platform, I find the most solace in the small, dusty ring. It's perched on a cliff, which overlooks the grass and crystalline rivers that stretch through the valley. Snow-tipped mountains guard them on all sides. The two villages, Wu Shi and Ho Shan, are the only signs of civilization within miles. They look like mere specks in the distance.

I lower to the lotus position and look at the arena. A youth practices Kung Fu in the circle. Shouts echo from the early riser. I watch the child, who has solid skills for someone so young, before letting my eyelids flutter shut. My other four senses light up as I took in his surroundings. I feel the morning humidity dripping off the grass and the breeze floating through my hair. I smell the rain, which must have fallen last night. Even my taste buds join in. I never leave my hut without brushing my teeth, and the minty mouth wash compliments the other senses perfectly.

I inhale deeply into my lungs. Even the ring activity fades into his mindfulness. I still hear it but accept it as a part of my surroundings. No judgment. No distraction.

'K'yah!"

I sense the kick, and my reflexes go into overdrive. I easily avoid the attack, roll out of the way, and jump to my feet. I grab the student's arm.

The boy's eyes widen. "I-I-I'm sorry, sir! I didn't mean to! It was an accident."

"Calm down, son." I size him up. He has to be eight or nine years old, with raven hair and brown eyes. I can't put my finger on it, but the child looks oddly familiar. "Why don't I know you? Who is your sifu?"

The kid bites his lip. "I don't have one."

"You're not a student? Do you even have permission to be here?"

"Uhhh, well, No."

"So, you're trespassing?"

"No, well, yes, but I honestly didn't know I needed permission! I'm sorry. My parents always told me about the academy, and I just wanted to see what it's like."

I recognize the wistful tone and size him up.

"You want to be Shaolin?" I ask.

"White Lotus. I've wanted to train under Kung Lao since I can remember."

"Why don't you ask to take the test? He's always accepting students,"

"He says I'm not ready," The young kid sighs.

"So, you say you're not from around here?" I ask.

"No. I just moved here from the United States."

"Oh, really? Which part?"

"California." I feel the kinship already.

"Welp, you're already here. A few more minutes won't hurt anyone." I walk into the ring and crook a finger. "Show me what you got."

The boy's eyes widen. "You want to fight me?"

"Why not? If you win, I'll convince Lao to train you."

The boy's face lights up. "You mean _when_ I win?" I laugh at his confidence, which borders on arrogance.

"Yes," I slowly shift to a fighting stance. "but only _if_ you win."

"Okaaaay. You asked for it," he says, this time with full-on arrogance.

I know the child doesn't stand a chance. Blaze granted me unparalleled reflexes and strength, but I need to know what the kid can do without that inhibition.

He does a lot in the few minutes we fight.

"Pretty good, kid," I say, surprised to be out of breath. I offer the child a hand, only to have it brushed aside. "Don't feel bad. You put up a good fight."

"Yeah, thanks," The child mutters. He climbs to his feet.

"Everyone loses at some point. You're still good. It shouldn't be hard to change Lao's mind."

"You said 'only if' I win."

"I had to motivate you somehow," I respond, "what's your name, son?"

In a purely coincidental but quite comical moment, the kid opens his mouth to speak, but a noticeably deeper voice just happens to say it first.

"Jin!"

The kid flinches. Kung Lao is a peaceful, friendly man until it comes to the kids. One look at his stern face makes his students fall in line. Jin seems a little braver than the other students, but even he is sweating.

Lao crosses his arms. "We have been looking everywhere for you! Where's Song Lark? Her parents are freaking out!"

"She went to the warrior shrine." The child waves a dismissive hand. "She's fine!"

"Coming here was very irresponsible, Jin. You got Lark in a lot of trouble. Her sister had to close the bakery to help me find you!

"Do you know how much one day of not selling anything can hurt their family?"

Jin kicks the sand with a sheepish frown. "No."

"Of course, you don't! You didn't think of that. Now we need to find Lark. Hopefully, she's okay."

Ever the more easygoing of the two monks, I hold my hands up, "Okay, okay, calm down, drama queen. It's only seven in the morning. They still have a full day of business ahead of them. Besides, I'm sure Lark is fine. She's a scrapper."

"Stay out of this, Cage. It's family business."

"Family?"

"His name is Kung Jin. He's my cousin. Lao explains.

"Why didn't you…"

"Found her!" I'm interrupted by the Song sisters. Six-year-old Lark yelps as Wren yanks her by the left ear. I wave, mostly at the older one. Song Wren is a tall, wispy woman with long brown hair and light green eyes. The thirty-year-old appears Asian, although I've heard green eyes suggest she might have other races mixed in. Either way, the young woman certainly has some good genes handed to her.

"Master Cage!" She bows. "I am so sorry for my sister's intrusion. I don't know what got into her."

"I do." Lao shakes his head at Jin. "Home. Now."

"You too, Lark," Wren snaps, "We'll deal with you later." The children retreat.

"I'm sorry again," Wren sighs

"Don't worry about it, doll." I flash my million-dollar smile at the butcher's gorgeous daughter, "Kids will be kids, 'ya know?"

Lao huffs. "Why are you always so lenient?"

I roll my eyes. Everyone calls me the soft-hearted monk. While the Shaolin believe that physical punishment is a useful disciplinary tool, I never raise a hand or staff to my students. I am especially gentle with the kids, seldom using an unkind word. It doesn't earn me a great reputation with the other monks, but I can't bring myself to use negative reinforcement. I must be getting soft in my old age.

Wren winks at me. "I think it's admirable. A man who treats a child with respect makes a good father."

"Yeouch!" I laugh at the jealousy this woman can evoke in Kung Lao. The green-eyed monster rears its head at me in the form of a hateful eyeballing. Wren cast a sidelong gaze at Lao. Her smirk fades. She doesn't like to push Lao as far as I do. She reached her limit.

"I should get back to Ho Shan." She gives Lao a secretive smile, which speaks a million words to anyone who sees it. "Are you still coming for dinner? Mom is butchering a chicken just for you."

"I wouldn't miss it." He touches her hand. This should be when they kiss goodbye. They have to keep up proper appearances in front of others, including myself. I'm ruining their moment.

Lao watches the woman leave with a smile on his face. I see the adoration in his eyes, grin wickedly, and punch Lao on the shoulder.

"Since when do you eat chicken? You're a freakin' vegetarian."

"Her dad owns a butcher shop. I needed an excuse to visit." Lao replies, " I'm not a vegetarian per se. Meat makes me ill."

"Does that mean you'll be too sick to help entertain the Edenians in the morning?"

Lao sniffs in offense, "Of course not. I never neglect my duties. I'll figure something out."

"Well, maybe you can hide the chicken in a napkin or something. Or do they have a dog? I used to sneak stuff to our dog under the table," I turn towards the east to look at the sun. "You could just postpone for when you have free time the next day."

"No. It has to be tonight," Lao responds. "I just wish I had a buffer. Someone Mr. Song respects."

"Good luck with that. Mr. Song is a huge grouch. He didn't even like me at first."

"But he does now." Kung slowly turns his head to look at me, "You might even say he respects you."

I know the meaning in his pointed stare. "No."

"Come on, Cage," Lao begs, "I could use your help."

"I can't just show up uninvited! That's rude," I say.

"The Songs love you! They'll be happy to have you!"

"Plus, I have a lot to do today…"

"I will help you. We'll work fast," Lao pleads. I see the desperation in Kung Lao's face.

"So, chicken, huh?"

===


	3. Sonya Blade

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sonya's life isn't nearly as peaceful as Johnny's, but it is about to get a lot more interesting.

SONYA

===

It's a Friday night. I'm in a slinky black dress with a slit up to my thigh. My feet ache in a pair of kitten heels that I begrudgingly agreed to. I'm all dressed up with somewhere to go. Cinderella has a ball to attend.

Why am I hunched over my computer at eight-thirty on a weekend?

The white glow from my computer screen is the only light in my office. My staff clocked out hours ago. That ball I mentioned earlier? It's kind of a huge deal. The guest of honor, Thomas Dawson, is US Military Director of the Outerworld Investigation Agency. He is the big man on campus, answering only to the Secretary of Defense and the president of the United States.

He is my boss. Well, he was my boss. Tonight, he retires and hands the job to his successor. Not only am I in a small, elite group of women who have earned a Congressional Medal of Honor, but I am the first woman to serve in the Special Forces. I have saved Earth, I have saved the realms, I've even helped save existence as we know it. I am the best choice, right?

Apparently not. The president appoints the Director of the OWIA, and after one hell of an election year, Dawson's golfing buddy lost to our new president. The new president has a golfing buddy of his own, the soon-to-be Director James Thompson. Don't get me started on James Thompson.

Now I have to put on a shit-eating grin and wish Dawson a fond farewell. I have to look Thompson in the face and congratulate him. The problem? I'm not very good at following orders.

How did I end up in the military, again?

Anyhow, here I am, hiding in the illumination of a screen. My fingers click the keyboard:

**Run: Facial Recognition  
Group ID: Black Dragon  
Cameras: All available**

"Scanning cameras. Estimated time is five minutes." I drum my trim fingernails on the desk and watch the screen like a transfixed hound dog on a scent. Hundreds of thousands of images flash across the screen. The computer had access to virtually every camera in the world, from airport security to smartphones. I hate to think about the terrifying implications of this software, so I don't. I suspend my conscience.

It takes less than five minutes.

**Click for results**

I feel a surge inside me. My heart beats quickly. I click on the button.

**Black Dragon: 1 Found**

I yank the chair back; the wheels spin in protest. This chair has seen better days. I plunk in the chair and slam click on the picture.

I sigh at the image. My heart slows down to a normal pace as I stare at the subject. He is looking to the side, but I can't miss his ventilator mask.

**Subject Name: Kabal**

Ever since the Black Dragon's "Civil War," Kabal flies under the radar. We have a tentative treaty with his sect of the Black Dragon. Everyone calls them The Renegades, whereas followers of Kano's "philosophy" call themselves The Loyalists. We hate The Renegades, but we loathe The Loyalists.

 **Location: Las Vegas, Nevada  
Taken: 06-02-2018 **  
  
While underwhelming, the fact that Kabal is back in the US concerns me. He is on the move. I make a mental note to follow up. I sigh again. No other known members have been spotted today; that is good news, right?

_Of course, it is!_

Time for the Red Dragon. We haven't heard from them in a long time. The keys click some more. I'm about to start running the software when a hand touches my shoulder. I jump.

"Jesus." I'm in a flight-or-fight mode now. I always choose fight. I come face-to-face with Thomas Dawson. He's been with the OWIA since right after The Battle. The US government decided we needed to be reined in. He let us get away with a lot. While I hate that he's stepping down at the worst time, I can't hate him. His hair is gray, but it's turning white. He has stress wrinkles all over his face. He looks exhausted. He deserves retirement.

"How long have you been there?" I ask.

"A couple of minutes," he responds. "Are you such a loser that you cannot tell when you've won?"

"Excuse me?" I frown.

"I said 'Are you such a loser that you cannot tell when you've won?'"

I raise an eyebrow. I've heard that somewhere. "Is that an insult or a compliment?"

"It's a movie quote. Look it up."

"Yes, sir," I say with an eye roll. I pull out my phone.

"Not now!" he snatches it from my grasp. "You have crow to eat."

"Hey! What are you doing?" I try to grab it back.

"I had to leave my party to get you." He puts it in his black jacket pocket. "You can have it back after you make your appearance."

"Don't make me kick your ass, old man," I say. "You know I can." I could never get away with talking to Thompson like this. Dawson is like the fun uncle I never had.

He smirks. "Probably, but you have other things to deal with, like your handsome date."

"Oh shit." Takahashi Kenshi was nice enough to escort me. He is my buffer against the high society pricks. Guilt swells within me.

"Yeah, he's standing by a punch bowl twiddling his thumbs."

I feel like a piece of shit. Dawson watches me with his thin, tightly-pursed lips.

"It's okay to enjoy the peace," he says. "You don't have to be on edge all the time."

"I'm vigilant. If something happens, I need to be on top of it."

He looks at me over his wired-rimmed glasses. "I read someone can get so used to the fear and pain of trauma that they get anxiety during times of peace. They don't know how to handle it."

"Well, that's not me." I meet his look with a quizzical stare. "It’s not like I want to be attacked or invaded.”

“I didn’t say you did.”

“Then what are you saying?”

He looked at his Rolex. “It’s almost nine o’clock, and you have a speech to give!”

“A speech?” I blanch as he saunters through the door.

***

"Fuckin' Dawson.” I jiggle the keys to my maroon '00 Dodge Durango. She's old as shit, but I follow her recommended maintenance schedule religiously. The body is also in pristine condition.

Once the keys are in the ignition, I turn on the air conditioner. The high for today was 103 degrees; at nine o'clock, it's still ninety. I spin the dial to full blast. The air will take a while to get cold. Soon, I'm following Dawson off post.

I hate humble pie. It tastes bitter as fuck. It's even worse that I have to eat if in front of General James Thompson. He's not just a dick; he's a career-destroying monster who set his sights on me decades ago. Our rivalry started in basic. He's tried every tactic in the handbook to get me discharged and/or demoted. Now he has the power to put me on desk duty. How am I going to congratulate him?

Fuck, I start to feel tired as I follow Dawson's sedan through the base exit. Leaving post is easy; it's getting back through the checkpoint that is a bitch. I have credentials, including a sticker on my car, but even I am subject to search at a whim. It's almost as bad as crossing the Mexican border.

My eyelids begin to get lower. I shake my head and try to perk up. It's going to be a late night, and I'm already acting like a senior citizen.

There’s a last resort. I can turn on my Alpine and let the music blast through the Audiobahn system. I'm pretty frugal, but my audio system is fucking amazing. I’m not really in the mood, but my eyelids are fluttering. Fuck it. I press the button. The touch screen flickers, it whirrs to life, and I hear the CD spin.

“No thanks,” I switch to the radio. I try anyhow.

**I like ice cream  
Cherry pie  
And Lemonade with summer breeze**

Shit. It was Insane Clown Posse’s Bizaar album. The last thing I need is violent music spurring on my anger. I try the radio again. It doesn’t respond.

**I like rainbows, leafy trails, and puppy dogs with bumble bees,  
I like cotton candy gum and bumper cars at carnivals**

Of course, of all songs

**Golden skies and hazel eyes  
And sand in between my toes**

**BUT**

**Something tells me  
That I HATE YOU  
Something tells me  
I must KILL YOU**

Nothing works but this damn CD. No radio, no Bluetooth. Touché, Alpine.

I need something to keep me awake, so I drum my fingers on the steering wheel and sing along.

_Fucking Thompson, this song is for you._

***

After relinquishing my precious Durango to the valet, I trudge into Dawson’s mansion. It’s like every fancy soiree I’ve seen in the movies. Many expensive dresses and penguin suits are packed together, fake laughing at each other’s jokes. As soon as I enter, the pungent mix of cologne and perfume creates a suffocating cloud that makes my eyes water. I suppress a cough.

Dawson said Kenshi was by the punch bowl. He hasn’t moved. Boy, does he stand out in his maroon garb. People are gawking at him, and his sword, Sento, on his back, doesn’t help. His demeanor changes by the time I reach him. He uncrosses his arms, relaxes against the wall, and smiles.

“General Blade,” he says, “you look lovely this evening.”

“Oh, it’s just a little dress and heels.” I look at his sash. He rarely lets anyone see his eyes, which are dead to the world. It hits me, and I burst into laughter. “Takahashi Kenshi, did you just make a joke?” A smile crosses his face. He strokes his narrow, rounded chin; runs his palm through his short, black hair; and nods.

“Good. Someone needs to liven things up,” I say. “You are a lifesaver. Thank you for this.”

“I am happy to help. It’s better now that you are here.” I get suspicious of compliments, but Kenshi’s feel genuine.

“So, where’s the booze?”

“They’re passing around champagne, but Jenna has something better.” He leans forward.

“Oh.” That explains a lot. He smells like liquor, although I can’t determine what kind. “So, Jenna’s here?” Jenna is my civilian executive assistant. The higher-ups don’t invite her to these events. She isn’t an officer; however, she dates an enlisted man, so the woman gets to go to barbecues and bonfires; she gets to have fun. _What a lucky bitch._

“Yes, somewhere,” Takahashi responds.

It only takes a second to find her. She’s the only person wearing a bright color. Her cherry red mermaid gown seems rebellious amongst the sea of muted colors. **Damn _._** I think, looking down at my black dress, _I should have thought of that._ Her boyfriend stands next to her. He set his jaw and grinds his teeth. I wish I could blame the party, but he’s always like this.

“You want to go over there?” Kenshi asks.

“I don’t know if I should.” Jenna stands in a group of twenty-somethings, and I’m assuming some of them are enlisted military. Even though I’m only thirty-six, Generals need to keep up an image. There’s a sense of decorum that the military expects of me.

I hear a burst of raucous laughter that catches my attention. It’s a group of sixty-somethings, and in the middle stands James Thompson and Thomas Dawson. Dawson looks up at me, frowns, and waves me over.

“You know what?” I say, grabbing Kenshi’s hand. “Let’s do it.”

I lead him through the crowd. His liquor-addled brain has him loosened up. He follows without resistance, stopping only to grab a small glass of champagne off a tray.

“General!” Jenna thrusts a flask at me. “Vodka?”

“No, thanks,” I say, “I have to drive.”

“I offered to drive, but she turned me down for some reason,” Kenshi jokes. Everyone laughs. I need to take him out more often. 

Jenna hands the flask to her boyfriend.

I take a measure of the other four. If they are soldiers, they’re not senior officers. I wonder why Dawson invited them.

“Sonya Blade,” I introduce myself. “and this is Takahashi Kenshi.”

“How rude of me!” Jenna proclaims. “Ma’am, this is Callas, Shetfield, and the Long brothers.” I nod as she points to each one.

I will never remember their names, and I probably won’t have to. I give the two women-Shetfield and Callas-a cursory look. My eyes go to the Longs. They’re entirely alike, from their chiseled faces to their chiseled physiques. One has a small scar on his chin. “I had a twin brother.” I tell them, “Fraternal, of course.”

“We _are_ multiples,” one states. He shifts in discomfort. “but we were born triplets.” His voice stops me from asking about their third brother. It’s the pained tone I used before I came to terms with my twin’s death. I can talk about Daniel now, but it took some time.

I nod. “Well, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

They nod as well, but we have nothing to talk about with the niceties out of the way. One of the women-the redhead named Shetfield- and the brothers seem chummy. They’re excited about a party or something. Callas, the tall brunette, sips a drink and keeps glancing at me. She maintains a distance from the other three.

“Let’s get some fresh air,” I suggest to Kenshi.

I grab Kenshi’s hand. He is more than just my buffer; he is my savior. Someone clinks a champagne glass before I can retreat. Kenshi can’t save me from everything.

“Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for coming.” Everyone turns to look at Dawson. He gives a light-hearted, complimentary speech about a man he despises. It’s more painful than our ex-president’s concession speech. As he spews his bullshit, I realize I have to speak next. I’m a terrific public speaker, but I have to believe what I’m saying.

“So, without further ado, I say welcome to James Thompson, the only person who could handle this thankless job I call Director.”

_I could._

The men and women laugh. I can’t. My mind is rushing to think of something nice to say. Everyone is looking at me. Apparently, Dawson has called me up. I grab a glass of champagne from a nearby tray and walk up to him. With expectant eyes all on me, I raise my glass.

Thompson’s piercing eyes are on me, daring me to humiliate him. My tongue feels dry and fuzzy as I’m reaching for something, anything, to say. I look him in the eyes with my steeled glare. This man made my life hell in basic. He bullied me, tried to rally others against me, spread rumors that I was a lesbian in the days of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.” He is a sexist, homophobic, hateful pig, and here I am about to kiss his ass.

I’m going down swinging. I look him in the eyes, give a sneer, and kick back the champagne. Once I’ve gulped down the glass, I drop it like a mic. It clinks to the ground and smashes. There’s an audible gasp around me. I feel their baffled eyes on me, and I don’t give a fuck. I stalk towards Dawson. He glowers at me.

“My phone.”

He’s still dumbstruck, but he goes into his pocket and thrusts my phone at me.

Someone grabs my arm and pulls me towards the door. Kenshi is stopping the spectacle I’m making of myself. As he rushes me to safety, I turn one time to link eyes with Thompson. He holds up his champagne, quirks an eyebrow, and smirks.

I gave him what he needed. I’m fucked.

===

“Get my car,” I bark at the valet. The young man rubs the scruff of his neck, takes my ticket, and hurries to follow my order. I have to get out of here before my rational side kicks in. I refuse to beg for forgiveness; I can’t go back and make amends.

“Sonya?” Kenshi begins.

“I don’t need a lecture, Takahashi!” I turn. He’s flushed, and his smile has an edge to it. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think my act of rebellion excited him. I realize it’s kind of exciting to me too. The adrenaline is pumping. I give him a good, hard look, from his boots to his chest, and chew my bottom lip.

The valet being my Durango. Kenshi pulls me back. “You shouldn’t be driving,”

“You calling me a lightweight, Takahashi?” I raise my eyebrow, and my voice dips dangerously.

“Ma’am, no ma’am!” Laughter rumbles in his chest. I wish I could read his mind; I wonder if he’s reading mine right now. “I’m just playing it safe.”

“Where’s the fun in that?” I quip.

There’s more laughter. I turn to see Jenna and her boyfriend, the two brothers, and the short redhead named Shetfield. They stop, and the laughter dies immediately. I can surmise they were talking about me.

“Everything okay, ma’am?” Jenna asks.

“Yeah,” I flush and get in the car. The excitement is gone; I’m just an idiot.

***

Gas rages through my car as my foot pushes the pedal to the ground.

Two months ago, I paid my mechanic to (illegally) remove the speed governor. Now, I’m testing my unhindered engine. It’s a clunky SUV, so we’re not winning any drag races; I’m still going to push it as far as possible. The speed limit is sixty-five; my speedometer reads one hundred. That’s criminal speed in Texas.

“Sonya,” Kenshi grunts. He looks calm, but I hear the tension in his voice.

“What’s wrong, Takahashi?” I smirk. The smile doesn’t reach my eyes. We go around two sharp curves; I don’t even touch the brake.

“Sonya,” he warns again. My foot stays slammed to the floor. We go around another curve. His left hand is clutching the door.

_I_ _’m acting like a lunatic._

Before I can take my foot off the gas, however, Takahashi makes the decision. His slender fingers grip my arm. For the next few seconds, my mind is his puppet. He tells me to slow down and pull over; I do it.

I am gasping when he releases me. The car skids through gravel before stopping. I turn to look at him.

“Never do that again,” I snap.

“Never _make_ me do that again,” he grinds out. He rips the keys out of the ignition, jumps out of the car, and walks away.

I call after him. “Where are you going?”

“To the barracks!” he shouts over his shoulder.

“You’re going to walk?”

“Unless someone picks me up,” he replies.

I follow. “And how am I supposed to get home?”

“Lady’s choice, but you’re not driving!” he holds up the keys for emphasis.

I cross my arms and call his bluff. “So, you’ll just leave me out here, unprotected and alone, in the dark?” I call. He’s too chivalrous, and that “white knight” complex is his weakness.

When he stops and turns to me, I suddenly wish I had let him walk. I’ve seen his anger explode at our enemies; his cruel hatred for Shang Tsung was a sight. He stalks towards me with balled fists.

“Don’t _ever_ put me in that position again.” his rage emanates. “ _You_ may have nothing to live for, but _I_ do.”

I don’t shrink or cower, but his words cut deep. I open my mouth for a comeback, but I’ll be damned if I can think of one. Deep down, I know he’s daring me to push him further. Everything inside me wants to poke the bear until he’s shaking with rage and fear.

It’s not the anger that bothers me, is it? It’s fear. The moment he grabbed my arm, he took control away from me. He forced me to do something. Although I was going to do it anyhow, it wasn’t my choice. As a woman with control issues, that’s a pretty big fucking deal.

There’s this twisted side of me that wants to flip those emotions. There’s a cliché that there is a thin line between rage and lust. Kenshi’s anger has me wondering if he can use the passion for an enjoyable purpose.

I don’t know how his powers work, and when he cocks his head, I panic. _Did he hear that?_

His aura changes. His anger has dissipated, but there’s _something_ on his mind.

If you ask me later, I won’t be able to tell you who made the first move.

I wrap around him like a sweater. Our tongues connect in a molten kiss. I don’t know how many women he has been with. I don’t know much about him, but He is _good_. I can’t think about how erratic I’m acting tonight. This is definitely conduct unbecoming of an officer, much less a General. No wonder I’m not the Director.

With a gasp of air, I pull back. “You need to get me home.”

“I’m not letting you drive,” he says, firmly.

“Oh, c’mon!” I protest into his mouth. I snake my hand up his arm to get the keys. He pulls them away and, as I watch in horror, throws them into the desert.

“We’ll find them in the morning,” he says. He backs me up until we’re standing against the hood.

“But what about tonight?” I don’t want to sound needy, but my voice comes out as such. He kisses me, hard, until I’m groaning against him. He’s wearing aftershave or cologne. It’s woodsy, probably sandalwood. The men in romance novels always wear sandalwood, so we’ll go with that.

The scent is intoxicating.

Then he pulls away.

“Wha-“ I groan at the disappearance. I don’t like being toyed with. Luckily, Kenshi has no intention of leaving me. He puts me on the hood, and I wrap my legs around his waist. We’re reaching that point of no return. I’m going to get fucked right here, outside, in clear view of a highway. It sounds extremely hot when hormones are raging.

“K-Kenshi-“ I try to get his attention, but it comes out as a moan. It spurs him on. He hikes my dress. _Yay, easy access._ I don’t want to tell him no, and he doesn’t want to hear it.

I don’t know if it’s true that blind people have a sharper sense of hearing, but Takahashi hears the car before I do. He tenses, and we both tumble to the ground before the headlights come around the curve. He maneuvers so that he falls to the ground first, and I land on top of him. We hide behind my car and hold our breaths.

The car races by. I hear the grinding engine, the squealing tires, and the roaring laughter from the passengers. It must be a bunch of kids going to a desert party. The car disappears around the next curve, and I grunt in relief.

“Well, that was fucking close,” I mumble. He smiles. The adrenaline rush adds fire to his arousal. I lean down to kiss him when we hear a noise from the opposite direction. He claims my lips as another light comes around. Something is wrong. The car is pulling over.

“I’m telling you, it’s her car!” I recognize Jenna’s voice,

_NO! FUCK!_

“She probably got a ride home.” A male voice says. It’s Jenna’s boyfriend.

“We should still check.” A second female voice says. That’s probably the redhead.

“But the paaaarty.” A second male whines. I think it’s one of the brothers.

Their feet crunch in the rocks as they approach my car. Kenshi and I move at once. I roll off of him and crawl to my front tire. He follows suit.

The young adults are coming around. Jenna’s boyfriend has a flashlight, which he shines on us.

“Yep, the tire is fine!” My dress is hiked up my leg. The straps on my dress have fallen down my shoulders, and my hair looks disheveled as fuck. Kenshi stands up. He looks as messy as I do. I nod at them, “Oh, hey guys.”

“Everything okay?” Jenna asks. The flashlight moves between us.

“Just checking the tire. TPMS warning was on.”

“We have a gauge if you want to check,” Jenna offers. “Noah, get it.” She’s staring at Kenshi with a sly smile on her face. It takes a second for me to see it. He has dirt all over his back.

She doesn’t rat us out. She won’t to my face. I’m sure they’ll all have a good laugh at my expense.

Her boyfriend, Noah, checks the tire pressure. He proceeds to compare it to the other three. I know it’s fine, but I let him check anyhow.

“They’re fine.” He always sounds gruff. “Get the TPMS reset.”

“Great idea.” I cross my arms. The group clearly wants to make sure I’m safely on the road before they leave. I walk to the driver’s door.

It doesn’t open.

 _Shit_.

I lock my door every time I leave my car, and it’s finally fucked me over. I look at the group of twenty-somethings and smile sheepishly.

“Oops.” I glare at Kenshi and grit my teeth. I have no idea how far he threw them, “I need the keys.”

He senses our eyes on him. “I dropped them.”

“A’ight, everyone, let’s grab a flashlight,” Jenna says to a symphony of groans. “We’ll find ‘em in no time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:  
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> LLF Comment Builder  
> This author replies to comments.  
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


	4. Johnny

JOHNNY

=====

After I send Kung Lao to Ho Shan Marketplace, my fellow monks and I scrub the huts until they sparkle. Each room has a small bed, sitting chair, and a wooden end table. The Edenians are used to lavish accommodations, but the huts are all we have. I patiently inspect each one until they pass a white-glove inspection.

By the end of the day, I feel tired. I wipe sweat from my brow and stretch until my back pops. "Uhhh," I groan in contentment. It's the little things that make life worth it.

"Anything else, Master Cage?" Cao asks me. He is a younger, newer monk.

"Yes, I need you to plan meals for the royals. They will be eating meat," I warn. He flinches because the Shaolin are strictly vegetarian. "I gave Lao a list of supplies. Where is he?"

"Lao hasn't returned." the younger monk responds.

The sun has begun its descent, which means Kung Lao left over four hours ago. Ho Shan is only an hour away; Logic dictates he should be back by now. Of course, only a fool looks for logic in the human heart. There is only one thing Kung Lao cares about in that village, and it damn sure isn't food for the banquet. Maybe Song Wren can make the monk easier to work with. She just has to soften him up a bit.

"Looks like we're making do with what we have."

We hear the crackling in the distance. Cao looks at me. "Thunderstorm?"

"No," I reply, "portal. Get everyone inside."

I rush to the lei tei, where the sounds originated. The God stands by the arena, his long black hair and white robes blowing in the wind. I cross my arms at the familiar form, who stares in reverie. "So, I have to invite Kitana if I want you to visit? Good to know."

Earth's newest protector turns his head to the side but says nothing. I walk up beside him and clap his back. "It's good to see ya, Liu."

The tall man looks like time never touched him. He's over forty; apparently, Godhood casts a youthful glow.

"Good to see you," he responds.

"What's going on?"

"I need to visit Wu Shi," he says. "Care to join me?"

"I could use a walk."

=====

The downhill slope and gorgeous scenery make for a pleasant stroll. Gray clouds crackle in the distance; The smell of rain wafts in the air. Liu and I walk quietly. We're content to be in each other's presence.

We approach an outlying farm, which is the only house for miles. Mrs. Li stands outside. She waves us over.

"Good evening, Mrs. Li," I say, "this is Liu Kang. Liu Kang, this is Li Mao."

"It is good to meet you." She says in a polite-yet-harried voice. "Have you seen Lily running around?"

"No, I haven't seen her anywhere," I say.

The years of raising her abandoned grandchildren wear heavy on her face. "She's like her mother: always disappearing." What loaded words.

I never met Lily's mother. Rumor says she fled the area to marry a Westerner. I had just joined the temple when she returned. She knocked on Li Mao's door late one night. She wanted her parents to meet their grandchildren finally—That's what she claimed. The Li's reacted with joy and forgiveness and felt happy to have their family back together. Happiness faded, however, the following morning. They awoke to find their darling daughter gone, leaving behind her three children. I didn't know the Li's at that time, but I came to respect their love and devotion to those kids. Raising them for the past five years couldn't be easy.

I look at Kang.

"We'll help," he offers.

"Please, don't trouble yourselves. I sent her brothers to search the paths."

"I know some kids like to play by the river. Have you looked there?" I ask. "Or the pond?"

"Oh, I didn't think of that." A hint of worry dashes across her face. "She doesn't know how to swim."

I frown. "We better check."

Liu agrees to check the pond. Li and I race to the river. It is a lovely swim from September to January, but a dangerous drowning hazard for a child for the rest of the time. It's July. The melting snow from the mountains flows directly into the river. This makes for rushing, churning waters. Li takes one look at the rapid current and starts shouting. Each cry rises an octave until it becomes a panicked scream.

I search the river bank for signs of the girl. There are several child-sized footprints, but they could belong to anyone—worry wells in my belly.

"Do you see anything?" Li asks.

"No," I respond grimly.

Suddenly, a loud noise came from upstream. My instincts kick in. I pushed Mrs. Li to the side as a wheelbarrow rushes by.

"Help!" Lily's blond hair bounces as she desperately holds on. "I can't control it!"

Li and I give chase, but we can't match the momentum. The wheels are turning faster and faster as the hill grows steeper and steeper. A crash is inevitable. Sure enough, the wheels hit a large stack of rocks. The wood buckles, and Lily flies into the dirt.

"Lily!" Li shouts, "oh, no..."

I reach her first and fall to my knees. "Lily?" she doesn't respond." Lily!" It takes a few beats, but she slowly blinks. "Stay still," I say, "don't move your neck,"

"Am I gonna be okay?"

"Yes, of course. You'll be fine," I respond.

"I'm sorry, Master Cage." Lily's lower lip trembles as her green eyes fill with tears.

"It's okay," I say as Li approaches. "I'm just glad you're okay. That's what matters."

Li begins her tirade on approach. "Lily Ann, Are you crazy? What were you thinking? You could have hurt yourself!" She points at the broken wheelbarrow. "That was grandpa's! We needed that!"

"I'm sorry!" Lily bursts into tears.

Li crosses her arms. "That won't get you out of trouble, young lady."

"Let's keep calm," I say to Li. "Can you go get my friend?"

"Yes, of course."

"I'm sorry. I messed up. I always mess up. That's what mama always said," Lily sobs between hiccups. "That's why she left."

"Hey, hey, no. Don't say that." I brush her hair away from her face. Lily burrows her head into my chest. Her tears are leaking through my robe. They're liquid pain, and I feel her loss. LI lightly rubs her head. "Listen to me. It was an accident. You made a mistake, okay? Everyone makes mistakes. Grandma and grandpa make mistakes; your brothers make mistakes. Heck, your mom made a huge mistake by leaving you guys. I'd say that's a hell of a lot worse than breaking a wheelbarrow."

"Do you ever make a mistake?" she whispers. My mouth goes dry.

"All the time," I manage. At least it's not a lie.

"How do I feel better?"

_Run away and forget it ever happened._ But I can't say that. I rack my brain for something inspirational.

"Well, Lily," I say, "you learn from it. Think about the mistake and choose never to do it again. Figure out how to change what caused it. Then, move on and refuse to let anyone make you feel bad."

"Is that what you do?"

My mistakes are a lot bigger, which makes this the biggest bullshit I have spewed in forever, but I nod to comfort her. Lily musters a brave smile. She looks unconvinced, but that is the best I can ask.

"This way!" Li and Kang approach.

"What happened?" Liu asks.

"She had a pretty nasty fall. I didn't think we should move her neck."

"You're probably right," Liu says.

"You have healing powers like Raiden did, right?" I ask.

"I'm no doctor, but I'll see what I can do."

He kneels over Lily. "It's okay. I'm here to help," he says. He puts his hand under her neck. The hand begins to glow, and A soft gold aura surrounds his fingertips. He closes his eyes and says something under his breath.

"Her neck is fine. She might be a little sore, but she isn't injured."

"That was amazing." Li isn't familiar with the history of Mortal Kombat, nor the origins of Earth's newest protector.

"All in a day's work."

"Can you walk?" I ask Lily.

"I think so." We help Lily to her feet. "I'm sorry, grandma." She dusts herself off.

"It's okay, baby. I think if you apologize to your grandpa and offer to help around the house, he'll forgive you." Li wipes stray tears from Lily's eyes. "I'm just glad you're okay."

"Do you need me to walk you home?" I ask.

"Oh no, please don't trouble yourself further!" Li says, "but If you're headed towards the villages, could you tell the boys we found her? If you run into them."

"I'll let them know," I say, ruffling Lily's hair, "Stay out of trouble, kid."

"Thank you." she smiles meekly at Liu and me.

"You are welcome." Liu nods. Once they disappear, Liu looks at me. "What the hell happened?"

***

Then she comes barreling down the mountain in a freakin' wheelbarrow!" I laugh, "funniest shit I've seen in forever."

"Glad she didn't hurt anyone." Liu gazes at the pond, which looks serene compared to the river.

"Yeah. She's a sweet kid. Has a big heart, ya know?" I sigh, "her parents must be morons."

"How are you not a father? You were so good with her."

My smile fades. "What brings you here? I haven't seen you in years."

"I'm sorry, my friend. I've been staying with Kitana. She keeps me very busy."

"I bet," I laugh. "Kitana, huh? So, you finally took my advice and did what makes you happy? It's about time."

"Things are different now that _you're_ the supreme champion. I know Earth is in good hands. I can finally rest, and, to answer your question, I have some loose ends. I will explain after I visit with Bo Rai Cho. He is still in Wu Shi, correct?"

"Same house too."

"We can teleport."

"Nah. It's a nice walk," I grin. "Unless you're out of shape now."

"Out of shape?" Liu scoffs, "I could run if I wanted."

"Rrrrright,"

===

We chat in a light tone for the duration of the walk. I tell him about Wren and Lao. Then, I watch my old friend light up when he described living with the Empress. We both seem to be doing well; that's all we could ask.

Shortly before the fork that branches between the two villages, the path passes a few farms and a small marketplace. Kang grows silent on the approach. I can sense the tension from Liu's clenched fists and his head, which he lowers towards the ground.

"What's wrong?" I ask.

"Just wait."

The first farmer sees us, drops his tool, and stares slack-jawed. I notice a trend in the hateful, shocked stares. When we arrive at the market, where the crowd is significantly larger, the whispers began.

"How dare he come back…"

"Traitor…"

"Murderer…"

The villagers stop short of rioting—throngs of people part to watch us. I give a sidelong glance to my long-time friend. Liu couldn't meet their eyes. He breathes heavily and pretends to ignore the looks.

"Liu," I say, in a solemn whisper. "they don't know."

"They know that I slaughtered people."

"We know it wasn't you."

"You don't understand, Cage! I've done things…"

"We all have, Liu. I've done some horrible things," I say, "and I chose to do those in my right state of mind. You, however, weren't in control. That's all there is to it."

"But how can I be the protector of Earth when my people hate me?"

I open my mouth, but there are no words. We approach the fork in silence.

"Are you sure you don't want to come to dinner?" I ask.

"I don't want to show up unannounced. That would be…"

"Rude!" I nod, "that's what I tried to tell Lao! Still, I don't want the village people to form a mob."

"I must speak with Bo Rai Cho. I'll meet you at the academy later."

"Okay." I turn towards Ho Shan.

"Johnny?" Liu calls from the fork.

"Yeah?"

"What did you do?" Liu asks, "what was so horrible?"

I cringe at those words. I'm still not ready to talk about my mistakes. An image of Sonya crosses my mind. "A lot."

"Maybe someday you will tell me?"

"Maybe." I set off. "Elder Gods, please don't let the villagers lynch him."

=====

"It's about time." Lao leans against the Song's tree with his hat hanging from his shoulders. "Everybody is waiting."

"You could have started without me." I'm not in the mood. My conversation with Liu is getting to me.

"Things are different in China," Lao snaps, "you have lived here for five years. How do you forget basic etiquette?"

"Mr. Song actually likes me. I can get away with things."

He glares at me, but it's true.

Wren pops her head out of the door. "Lao?" Lao softens, as usual, and the negative thoughts leave my head as well. Wren has that effect on people. "Hello, Johnny."

I love hearing my first name on a woman's lips.

"Hey, dollface." I smile.

"Lao, my mother wants to ask you something." Once Kung Lao enters the house, I pull Wren aside.

"So, I've been thinking about Lao's dilemma with the chicken…"

***

"Please don't embarrass me." Lao whispers in my ear when I walk inside.

"Relax, I'll give 'em the ole' Cage charm," Johnny grinned.

Lao blinks rapidly. "I said, _don't_ embarrass me."

There is so much anxiety in Lao's voice, and I see the desperation in his almond eyes. "Don't worry. I got your back."

"Thank you, Johnny."

Anyone can see why Mr. Song remarried. Lark's mother, who is Wren's stepmother, Mei, is stunning for a sixty-year-old. She finishes setting up the seats. "I will get Lark and my husband. Sit where you like."

We look at the options. The seating arrangements make a difference. As the patriarch of the household, Mr. Song has a claim over the head of the table. Etiquette dictates the rest sit according to importance. Lao can't command respect if he sat in the seat closest to the door, which they traditionally reserve for the lowest-ranking person. I want to help Lao look strong. Time to take one for the team.

Lao mouths a thank you. He doesn't want to look too cocky, so he chose the seat right beside me. He wouldn't be last, but he still showed respect to the family. We stand by our chairs.

"C'mon, ladies. They're hungry!" Mrs. Song urges the girls along. Wren and Lark sidle in. Wren smiles shyly at Lao, who noticeably brightens at the sight of her. Lark bounds towards the seat beside Lao.

"Where's Jin?" she pouts.

"He's at home," Lao replies, "I sent him to bed without dinner."

"What? Why?" I demand. "That's a little harsh."

"He needs discipline. As I said, it's a family matter." Lao gives a silencing glare.

"Where's dad?" asks Lark. She eyes the food.

"Good question," Mrs. Song mumbles.

Song Pi marches into the dining room. He looks at each of us until a glare reaches Lao. Lao looks away.

"Master Johnny, what are you doing down there?" Pi asks, "Come sit by my right!"

"I'd like to sit by the door," I realize that Pi wants to make Lao sit in the lowest seat. He wants to make a statement. "I'm not feeling well, and the fresh air helps."

"Let's just eat," Mei says.

Pi scowls and sits in his seat. The rest of the table follows suit. Mrs. Song sets the first course, soft noodles, and we eat in silence.

The second course goes well, also. Nobody speaks, but that meant nobody fights. My stomach is rumbling. The truth is, I haven't eaten this good since I joined the Shaolin. It was a shock going from a culture that adored food to my new home, where they believe excess food can be harmful to the body and soul. The Shaolin barely eat enough to fuel our activities.

At this rate, I'm going to be the sick one.

Then comes the dreaded chicken.

"I hope you like it, Lao." Mei smiled. "I roasted it for you."

Lao gulps and looks at the communal dish. "T-thank you," he stutters.

I don't know why eggs and meat make him sick, but if he eats that chicken, he'll be out of commission tomorrow.

Wren shoots Lao a worried look."I don't think he'll like that."

"I thought you love chicken," Pi snorts, "you buy so much of it."

"I would love some." Lao grabs a small piece with his chopsticks. He raises it to his lips with a grimace. Just the thought of meat makes him want to vomit, and the thought of Lao getting sick makes me want to follow suit. Except for Lark, who couldn't care less, the Song family watches intently. Pao has a sadistic glint in his eyes. He must know. Wren and I lock eyes. It's time to put our plan into action.

There is a loud "oomph!" as Wren falls off her chair.

"Wren!" Mei shouts. Pi and Lao leap out of their chairs to rush to her side.

"Is she okay?" I jump up, "accidentally" tipping the table over. The plates and the chicken fall on the floor.

"Hey!" Lark shouts, "my food!"

"She needs air!" Lao exclaims, "and don't move her! Her neck might be injured."

"Oh, no, will she be okay?" Mei whispers, "Wren, please..."

A low moan slips from Wren's lips. She looks up through parted eyelids. "W-what happened?"

"You fainted," Lao whispers, "are you okay?"

"I think so." She looks at Pi. "Father, get me some water, please."

He rushes into the kitchen. Wren pulls Lao to her lips and whispers. Kung's eyes widen, and a smile spreads across his lips. Wren winks at him. "you're welcome."

Pi returns with a cup of water. "Can you sit up?"

"Mmmm hmmm," Pi and Lao support her. She sits up and takes a few sips from the cup. "I feel better now."

"Hey, guys?" Lark pouts with an eye roll. "I'm still hungry!"

===

"That was interesting." I smile. "The academy award goes to..."

Wren chuckles, "I just did what you said. That was a brilliant idea, Master Cage."

"How do you think it's going in there?" I ask. "I don't need your dad trying to chase my partner with a butcher's knife."

"My father is reasonable, but he doesn't like Lao." She frowns. "I'm going to check on them."

I nod. Once alone, I lean against the weeping willow and watch the stars. A yawn falls from my lips, and my eyes close.

They snap open when Liu materializes. "I thought we were meeting at the academy."

"It's late. Would you like to walk home?" Liu smirks

"Gift horse. Mouth. I get it," I say.

"Where is Lao?"

"He's inside begging Wren's dad for permission to date."

"I thought they were already together," Liu says.

" _We_ know that. Mr. Song? Not so much."

Pi shouts and something hits the wall.

"I don't think it's going too well," apparently, I'm Captain Obvious now.

Wren rushes outside. "You might want to take Lao home now." She spots Liu Kang. "Oh, hello."

"Liu, this is Song Wren. Wren, this is Liu Kang."

"It's nice to meet you, Lord Kang," she says with an awe-struck bow. Liu merely stares at the woman. There's a hint of coldness in his eyes.

"She's never met a God before," I say.

Liu nods. "The pleasure is all mine." Wren couldn't sense his hostility, but I have known the man for a long time. As Wren rises, I slap Liu's shoulder and shake my head. Kang ignores the rebuke.

"Get out of my home!" Song Pi bellow. Something smashes against the wall again. "And stay away from my daughter!"

Lao runs out. He clenches his fists and grits his teeth. "That man..." he hisses.

"We will figure this out," Wren sighs.

"Get in here, Wren!" Pi shouts.

"I better do what he says. I-I love you," she says. She kisses him with a blush on her face.

Lao's face brightens, "I love you too!" he spins around. "Did you hear that? She's never said that before."

"I'm glad I witnessed it." Liu smiles.

"Liu? When did you get here?"

"This afternoon. Cage didn't tell you?"

"I wanted to surprise him. Surprise!" I grumble. Lack of sleep has me uncharacteristically grumpy. "Everyone knows. Let's go home!"

"Alright, alright." Liu looks at Lao. "You want to teleport?"

"It's a good night for a walk," Lao shakes his head. "I'll see you in the morning."

"Be there at sunrise," I say.

Minutes later, I slip into my bed and yank the rough blanket over my chest. It's been a long fucking night. Let's hope I get enough sleep for tomorrow.


	5. Sonya

SONYA

=====

Scalding water hits my chest. I lean back against the tile, letting steam engulf my tired limbs. I haven't slept. Last night was a cluster fuck, and my unsated body is incredibly pent up. I close my eyes and grind my teeth. Fuck, my memories of Kenshi won't settle. Last night we were two fucked up people in need of some release. Too bad we didn't find my keys. The tow truck driver wasn't nearly as scintillating.

I wonder if he's doing the same thing? It's difficult to pleasure oneself in the barrack showers-believe me, I've tried. It's hard (no pun intended) to imagine. While I've seen him shirtless, I never paid attention to his body. It's like the previous night piqued a dormant curiosity.

The way he kissed, though! My lips still feel his anger and hurt, laced with passion and need. He was nothing like Johnny. Johnny had a more languid tongue. He liked to go slower with teasing bites thrown in. There were exceptions, however, like that night.

"Ahhh! Fuck, no!" I snap. I force myself to stop because I won't give this one to Johnny.

I opened the gates; the memories flood in. The especially painful ones replace arousal. The pyramid memory hurts the most. It's usually my mind's go-to. Today, it's the Onaga memory. That's what I call it.

The mood is gone from my mind. My body is still screaming, " _Bitch, why'd you stop?"_ but I ignore it. I turned a pleasurable moment into a fucked-up mess. I'm good at that. I turn the temperature to freezing and stay in the shower for a few more minutes. My lungs constrict, but they say a cold shower helps. 

They are fucking liars.

I'm a shivering, numb mess when I step on the beige herringbone tile. The General's house is Colonial style, but the Army upgraded it before I moved in. It would make most home buyers cream in their pants with its hardwood floors, stainless steel appliances, and granite countertops. My large master suite would seal the deal.

As I wipe the residue off the mirror, I picture the stereotypical General for whom they built this house: He (of course, it's a he) is stern and gray-haired. His lovely, diplomatic housewife is the model military spouse, dressed to the nines whether dancing at a formal event, running the FRG meetings, or grocery shopping at the Commissary. His three darling children attend the academy across post. Despite years of deployments and relocations, the Army brats are well-adjusted. They earn good grades and don't bring shame to their father's legacy.

Then you got me. A crazy, lonely bitch living alone in a four-bedroom house. As I grab a hairdryer, I stare at my reflection. I've never lacked self-confidence, but something is building up within me. I hope it doesn't blow up when the pressure reaches its breaking point.

_I'm fucked,_ I think, while I turn the dryer on high heat. My honey blonde hair goes to mid-back. I have a few layers in the front, including some wispy bangs that tease my high cheekbones and square jaw. 

I feel tempted to take the day off. Usually, I'm the first person in, the last person out, and the one who never takes her vacations. I leave when someone makes me, and there aren't many people who have that pull.

Also, old me would march into that office, look Thompson straight in the eye, and go toe to toe with him. Something about last night, however, has me wanting to disappear for a while. I didn't grovel before Thompson. I didn't kiss his old ass. Why do I feel humiliated? Why do I feel like I made a fool out of myself?

Why do I fucking care?

"You may have nothing to live for, but I do."

Those words keep looping in my head. When I think of Kenshi's outburst, I get a knot in my stomach, and it's thicker than a Cinnabon. Takahashi never uses his powers idly. I must have triggered something in him that brought it out. To think, I dared to act like he was in the wrong. Best of all? I jumped his bones when I didn't have a comeback.

Inside my bedroom closet are a uniform and a limited amount of civilian wear. Chewing my lip, I bypass my work clothes and grab a pair of black slacks and a white button-up blouse. I feel naked in my civvies-always have, yet here I am; I rifle through my drawer. Thank the Elder Gods that I have a spare car key, for the other one is as good as gone.

Walking outside, I jump into my Durango and rev her up.

=====

I hate shopping.

I made a 'quick' stop at the Commissary for an 'I'm sorry' gift. Instead, it turned into thirty minutes of second-guessing myself. I realize, with a lot of guilt, that I barely know Kenshi anymore. It's not entirely my fault; he did disappear for five years after The Battle. It still doesn't excuse that I haven't asked a single question since his return.

_What do you get a man you barely know?_

_Cards? Use someone else's words to apologize? Lame._

_Flowers? Too romantic. Plus, they die in a few days. How morbid is that?_

_Balloons? He's not a child._

I care about Kenshi; he's a friend and an ally. I just don’t know shit about him anymore.

_Maybe I'm overthinking it._

It takes a few trips down the aisles, but I catch an idea. One time, Kenshi bought a giant package of strawberries and a pound of sugar, and he snacked on it every day for a week. Jax and I gave him shit for it. If he didn't take such good care of himself, I'd be concerned about his blood sugar. He loves sweets.

At least I know something.

I wander towards the produce section. Several people surround the cartons of berries. "Damn," I mumble when they disperse. While the blueberries and raspberries are impeccable, mold covers the strawberries. Wouldn't that be a lovely gift?

"Ugh. Nasty," a woman beside me groans.

"Right?" I laugh.

"Maybe they have more in the back?" She looks up at me.

"Maybe, but that's a quick way to piss them off," I chuckle. The clerks hate when we ask them to look in the back. Ninety percent of the time, they'll say 'no' and walk away. I look at the moldy strawberries and back at her.

This raven-haired woman is staring at me. At 5'9," I'm tall for a female, but she towers over me. It's one of the soldiers from Dawson's party. "Callas, right?" Somehow, I remember her name.

"Yes, ma'am," she says, "Sergeant Callas, nice to meet you."

"You don't have to call me ma'am here."

"Sorry. Habit." She shrugs.

"You got a first name, soldier?" I ask.

"It's Bryce. Well, Bryseis, but everyone calls me Bryce." She scratches her nose. "I hope they have some at the PX. I don't want to go to Wal-Mart just for strawberries."

"You’re telling me! I don’t know what I’m going to get now,” I sigh.

“What are you looking for?”

“A present for… a friend.”

“Well, what’s she into?”

“Um, he has a sweet tooth,” I remark. “he loves strawberries.”

“Does he like chocolate?”

I think of Valentines' Day when Jax bought pounds of discounted assorted chocolates. Takahashi was in hog heaven. I snap my fingers. “He loves dark chocolate!”

“I saw the perfect gift. C’mon.” She smiles. I follow her to the bakery.

They have white, milk, and dark chocolate-covered strawberries for thirty-five dollars a pound. “Dark chocolate and strawberries. They’re the best of both worlds,” she nods.

“Fuck, he’ll love those,” I say, “but aren’t they a little suggestive?”

“Only if you get some champagne to go with them,” she shrugs. “if he knows you’re just friends, does it matter?”

“Good point.” Honestly, I don’t know how I want him to feel. Will this push him away or make amends? There’s only one way to find out. I ignore the fact that I could make these for a fraction of the price and order a pound.

“Thank you for your help,” I say to Bryce as the cashier wraps the strawberries in parchment paper. He hands me a white doughnut box.

Callas opens her mouth, but noise comes from her pocket. Her cell phone plays The Imperial March from Star Wars. Her face pales. “I’m sorry, but I have to take this.”

I mouth a farewell as she answers her phone.

=====

The Commissary is close to my house and fifteen minutes from The Hill, which houses barracks and the temporary OIA office. Peacetime weekends present a more lenient atmosphere. Most soldiers are off-duty on those days, and female visitors are welcome at the barracks. It’s common to see girlfriends hanging out in the halls and the common areas.

I’m not implying that I’m even close to being Kenshi’s girlfriend. That’s not the point.

Since Takahashi can’t drive, the Army set him up in the barracks to be close to the action. It took a lot of string-pulling on my part. Dawson wanted to make him enlist, but I wouldn’t allow it. Takahashi is a nomad; freedom makes him happy. He doesn’t need the military tying him down. I can’t-and won’t-entrap him.

See, I owe him. When I awoke in the Edenian camp, his face was the one waiting for me. Jax died-his body never recovered among the rotting corpses-and Johnny? I still have the “Dear John” letter, which Cage left for me. I know, it’s pathetic pining away for a man who betrayed me, but I needed him to be there with me-for me-but he couldn’t man up. Instead, it was Takahashi who sat by my side until I could take care of myself again.

I clutch the bakery box as I sign in. With everything Kenshi has done for me, I didn’t bother to learn a god damn thing about him except that he loves strawberries and chocolate. Fuck me.

Once prepped on visiting hours (I have to be out by midnight,) I follow security’s directions to Kenshi’s room. I take one deep breath once I reach his bunk. Those damn nerves are kicking in. I knock on the dark wooden door as the metal handle turns, and a bulky figure nearly tramples me.

“Whoa!” he says. I’m face-to-face with another one of the soldiers from Thompson’s party. He also participated in the subsequent key search. First Bryseis, and now one of the Long brothers? How small is this base?

“General Blade!” his eyes widen. “I don’t know if you remember me…”

“You’re one of the triplets. I met you last night.”

A strange smile spreads on his face when I say the word ‘triplets.’ It’s a combination of joy intermingled with sadness, which I attribute to the mysterious third brother, and whatever may have happened to him. “I’m Jacob,” he tells him.

“You wouldn’t happen to know where Takahashi Kenshi’s bunk is?” I ask. I’m getting good at changing subjects.

“You’re in the right spot! I think he hit the showers. You can wait in here if you want.” He ushers me into their room. “Tell him I’ll be in the common area when he’s ready.”

The room is a good-sized space. It’s a step up from the barracks I lived in decades ago. There are two small beds and two black dressers. I can immediately tell whose bunk is whose. One side has a giant flat screen and every gaming platform known to man. The bed has a bright blue blanket, and the dresser has a ton of framed pictures. The other side is minimalistic. The mattress has a simple gray comforter, and the dresser has only one frame.

Since it’s on display, nobody can accuse me of snooping, right?

I see a picture of a breathtaking woman. She looks Asian, with long dark hair and dark, fierce eyes. I wish I could get some context for the image. Is she a mother or a friend or a girlfriend? Once again, the whole ‘not knowing Kenshi’ thing bites me in the ass

As I stare, the door opens, closes, and locks. I put the frame down, feeling like someone busted me with contraband. “Sorry, I was just-” My words catch in my throat. I see toned, scintillating skin. I’m staring at the bare chest of Takahashi Kenshi, and my eyes roam of their own accord. His toned, wet abs practically lead my eyes down a dangerous path to a place happier than Disneyland. A tan towel covers it. He doesn’t acknowledge my presence, “Everything okay?”

Sento flies past me, followed by the towel. I’ve seen him shirtless, but never naked. A little full-frontal nudity, and suddenly I want to jump back in my shower and finish what I started this morning. I’m acting like a blushing virgin.

He pauses almost immediately, turns his head, and reaches for his ears.

“General?” he has a light flush that becomes redder when he senses me. Good god, I hope he isn’t reading my thoughts right now! Jesus H. Christ. “Can you hand me my clothes? They’re on the bed.”

“Y-yes.” I fling his underwear at him first. I never expected him to be a boxers guy, but the navy-blue drawers prove me wrong.

“I apologize.” He says, shoving his feet into the holes.

“No worries,” I assure him. I hand him the rest of his clothes, somewhat aware that I still haven’t turned away.

“I couldn’t hear you. My roommate gave me these.” he holds up a pair of white earbuds. “And this. It allows me to listen to music. It’s called an iPhone.”

“Jacob gave you an iPhone?” I purse my lips.

“Just to use. It’s his old one. I guess he dropped it and never got it fixed,” he shrugs. “It has some interesting songs.”

“So, if you couldn’t hear me, how did you figure out I was here?” I ask, a curious smile crossing my face.

He stops in the middle of putting his pants on. “I smelled you,” he says.

“Oh?” I raise an eyebrow. “What do I smell like?”

“Most people have a signature scent. It’s difficult to explain. So, to what do I owe the pleasure of this visit, General?” he's good at switching subjects as well.

“Oh! I brought you something.” I step forward and practically thrust the box into his sternum.

He opens the box and immediately groans. “How did you know?”

“Lucky guess,” I respond.

He doesn't wait until I leave. Instead, he bites into one with gusto. The juice squirts down his chin. “Oh,” Kenshi grabs the towel off his bunk and wipes his chin and chest.

“Hot date?” I ask in amusement.

“Jacob and his brother, Jack, are taking me to the PX. I need quite a few things.” The PX is a military-only store. It sells groceries, clothing, furniture, and even has a Starbucks. It would take Kenshi about an hour to walk there, maybe less considering how fast he moves.

“Not in the mood for a jaunt in the desert?” I ask. It isn’t too hot yet.

Kenshi sighs, “I can’t buy anything without military identification. Jacob is buying it with his.”

“Wait, they haven’t given you your card yet?” I demand, “how have you been buying food or shampoo or even clothes?”

“There are vending machines, and the men are nice around here. We share food and snacks. As for the other things?” he shrugs. “I’ve been on my own there.”

“I’m so sorry, Kenshi. I should have been on that.”

“I could have brought it up,” he shrugs. “I like being here to help you. The only bad part is being stuck on base all of the time.”

I feel terrible now. Last night’s party might be the first time he left post in weeks, maybe even months. This isn’t in Kenshi’s nature.

It begs the question: how hasn’t he skipped town yet? What’s keeping him here?

“You know, if you ever want me to take you somewhere, I’d be open to it,” I remark. “There’s a little town fifteen minutes from post. It has restaurants, clothes stores, a strip mall. You name it.”

“That would be amazing.”

“Just say when, and we’ll make it a date,” the word ‘date’ slips from my lips before I can stop it.

He smiles. “When.”

I set myself up for that.

=====

The common area sits around the corner from Kenshi’s room. Through a small window, I see Jacob seated on a green, tattered couch. He’s holding a bowl and shoveling noodles into his mouth. The redhead from last night-I can’t remember her name-sits next to him. She leans against his shoulder, her feet casually resting on the other Long brother’s lap. I can’t read her lips, but they all start laughing at her words. She throws her head against Jacob, giving him a glance that’s flirtatious as hell.

I hate girls like that.

“Heya, Taki!” the girl smiles at Kenshi when he walks through “How do you like the iPhone?”

_Taki?_

“It works well. Thank you for figuring out the accessibility settings for me.”

“Oh, hon, it’s no problem,” she grins. “If you want, you can use my Audible account. I have a lot of novels you can listen to…”

“For God's sake, Rorie, he doesn’t want to listen to your smut!” Jack throws his head back and laughs. “Seriously, Taki, don’t do it. I made that mistake once.”

“Hey, I have some PG-13 stuff on there, too.” she gives a dramatic pout.

“Yeah, yeah, sure,” Jack mumbles.

At this point, nobody has acknowledged my presence, and it’s pretty fucking awkward. The way these four are going on like the best damn friends, I’m not sure I should say anything.

“Oh, Jacob, if you do not mind, General Blade offered to take me out.” Takahashi smiles.

“Oh shit, for real?!” Jacob’s eyes widen. "Did you finally ask her? Or did she ask you?"

They all turn when I clear my throat.

“Sonya, you know Jacob, that’s Jack, and this is Rorie Shetfield.” Kenshi motions towards them, looking a little red in the ears.

“General Blade!” Rorie nods, straightening up to show respect. “It’s such an honor. We are all huge fans of yours! We have been following your career since we were in high school.”

“Did you go to school with Bryseis?” I ask.

“No, she’s from, like, California or somewhere, but the triplets and I went to high school in Houston together,” she explains, “We were in the same clubs.”

“Cheerleading?” I narrow my eyes at her.

“Robotics,” her eyes flash. “and ROTC.”

Ugh. I sounded like a sexist bitch mixed with a slut shamer. 

“Weeeeellll,” Jake intervenes, “it’s totally fine if you two want to go together, Taki.”

=====

“You’ve gotten awfully cozy with them since last night, _Taki_ ,” I observe as we hop in my Durango.

“They are good kids,” he shrugs.

“So,” I say, “where do you want to go first?”

**Author's Note:**

> This story is part of the LLF Comment Project, which was created to improve communication between readers and authors. This author invites and appreciates feedback, including:
> 
> Feedback
> 
>   * Short comments
>   * Long comments
>   * Questions
>   * Constructive criticism
>   * “<3” as extra kudos
>   * Reader-reader interaction
> 

> 
> LLF Comment Builder  
> Author Responses
> 
> This author replies to comments.
> 
> If you don’t want a reply, for any reason (sometimes I feel shy when I’m reading and not up to starting a conversation, for example), feel free to sign your comment with “whisper” and I will appreciate it but not respond!


End file.
